Status Updates From Suttree

It dont even smell like coffee. They done emptied the coffee out and filled the sack back with old leaves or somethin, said the woman, nodding her head and looking about. Bring me a cup of it, Willard, the girl called. Reese cut his eyes about. It might be poison, he said. Put eggshells in it, Mama, the girl called. That'll rectify it. Where's she goin to get eggshells at, dumb-ass? They aint no eggs. -- C.M.

Settling down now. Episodes in a life of ...

They ate on what looked like an outhouse door. A weathered wooden trestle propped on poles. Suttree was afraid to lean on it. They sat on planks and cinderblocks, the smallest girl's chin just clearing the boards. Suttree was lightheaded with hunger. The iron pot came aboard and the kettle and pan of biscuits. In the kettle were some rough and hairy greens he'd never met before. In the pot whitebeans. -- C.M.

I don't understand why someone would choose to live like this.